


That Stupid Terran Thing

by chockfullofsecrets



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chockfullofsecrets/pseuds/chockfullofsecrets
Summary: Peter's smaller teammates keep trying to climb him, which is highly inconvenient for several reasons.





	That Stupid Terran Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally submitted to [fanficsandfluff](http://fanficsandfluff.tumblr.com/) back when I functioned solely as an anon :)

The first time Rocket tried to use Peter as a ladder, both of them almost died.

Peter had been standing in the common room, headphones on, minding his own business, when he’d first been introduced to the sensation of Rocket’s paws digging into his side as his furry teammate pulled himself up. Naturally, this led to Peter yelping frantically and twisting to protect himself, disconnecting his headphones just in time to take in a flurry of information: pain as his head collided forcefully with a nearby shelving unit, the ground rushing nearer as he overbalanced and barely managed to catch himself, and Rocket barking “hold still, you idiot!” as he clung to Peter’s shirt. When he finally managed to get both feet settled firmly on the ground, he almost lost it again as Rocket scrabble his way up his ribcage - he had to bite his lip as hard as he could to make himself hold still, and the bushy tail brushing against his neck and arms wasn’t much help either. 

Rocket huffed from his perch on Peter’s shoulder, grabbing something off a high shelf and stuffing it into his vest pocket. “You gonna crack your head on something when I climb back down too?”

“No, Rocket,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “Just wasn’t expecting to be climbed like a frickin’ tree today. Go ahead.”

Rocket was suspiciously quiet on his way back to the floor. Peter was tempted to toss a snarky comment at his retreating back, until he remembered that till recently Rocket had access to full-grown Groot, an actual tree, for all his ladder needs. Then he just kind of felt like an idiot. 

He resolved that next time, he’d let Rocket climb him without comment. Only problem was, he also flailed around wildly the second time. And the third. His sudden inability to stay upright the first time wasn’t due to surprise. Rather, it had happened because Rocket climbing him tickled like hell. 

Just another stupid Terran thing to worry about. 

Rocket kept giving him weird looks, and he wanted to explain himself, he really did. If it had just been an issue of pride, he wouldn't have thought twice - it wasn’t like he had a lot of that anyway, and his dignity would be a small price to pay for keeping this precious new friendship that he had lucked into with the other Guardians from blowing up. 

But ticklishness was unique to Terrans, or at least that’s what Peter had gathered from Yondu's reaction to discovering this particular trait of his. After nearly five minutea of Yondu tickling a ten-year-old Peter into hysterics as he supposedly tried to determine if this was something his prize acquisition could be trained out of, he’d looked down at Peter with a solemn face. “You’re sure this ain’t something Terrans grow out of?”

Peter had nodded, grinning foolishly and still too winded to speak. It was probably the most contact with another being he’d had in years, and definitely the hardest he’d laughed since being taken from Earth and since his mom - yeah. 

Yondu heaved a sigh. “Listen, boy - you don’t tell anybody about this re-action of yours, y'hear? Hell knows what the boys’ll do to you if they know you got a kind of weakness that’ll make you promise just about anything to get ‘em to stop using it.”

Peter, who’d been pleading with Yondu for his life, or at least the ability to breathe, not five minutes back, nodded again, his grin gone. “Alright. I’ll be real careful, Yondu.” 

“That’s captain to you, brat,” Yondu had snarled, directing Peter out of his cabin with a killer grip on his shoulder. Not that any of his own warnings kept Yondu from tweaking Peter’s sides or poking at his stomach when he wanted him out of his way or paying attention or just a little riled up. Point was, his being ticklish was a weakness. One he didn’t plan to disclose unless he absolutely had to. 

In the end, he didn’t really have a choice. Groot grew his legs out and started wandering around the ship, and in the fashion of babies everywhere he wanted to be picked up constantly. In the little plant’s case, this involved little snaking tendrils that wrapped around hair and fingers and fur as Groot tried not to fall off whoever he was riding around with. In retrospect, this was obviously not going to end well for Peter. 

But no one could refuse Groot and his big baby eyes (weapons of their own, Rocket said gruffly one night, stroking a paw over a sleeping Groot’s head). So the infant tree had ended up snuggled into the crook of Peter's shoulder as he sorted through ship repair parts, and as he hummed the sweet symphonies of George Harrison one of those sneaky tendrils managed to wiggle its way under his arm.

Peter shrank into himself to escape the sensation, arms snapping to his sides as he made a sound that was definitely not a shriek. In the commotion, Groot tumbled off his shoulder with a shriek of his own. Feeling the sudden loss of weight, he spun frantically, eyes tracking desperately in an attempt to find Groot before he fell. He couldn't do it.

But Rocket was nearby, insulting Peter’s taste in spare parts and organizational methods. He bounded across the room and plucked Groot from the air, cradling him in one bony elbow. 

He was staring at Peter. Peter stared back. This was it. Rocket was going to kill him. Gamora would spit on the body, and Drax would chop him up into tiny pieces with his weirdly sharp knives, and Groot… Groot would probably push the airlock button to send his corpse spinning out into the empty black of space. He opened his mouth and then closed it, unable to think of anything to say. 

Rocket had no such reservations. “What the hell, Quill!” Peter flinched. “I get it if you can’t stand to be within touching distance of a cybernetically modified freak like me, okay, but Groot ain’t done nothing to you! If you can’t deal with him, just stay away!”

What.

He turned to go, Groot babbling in his arms, leaving a slack - jawed Peter in his wake. “Rocket, I - what the - that’s literally the farthest thing from the truth - Rocket, you can’t just say things like that and walk away! Get your furry butt back over here so I can tell you what’s really going on! C’mon, man - please?”

He was panicking, he knew it, somewhere between acute embarrassment and righteous outrage that Rocket would jump to the worst possible conclusion. If he moved, he was either going to pick Rocket up and shake all the stupid out of him or sprint to his room and break off the frickin’ access panel so he could starve to death in peace. 

Lucky for him, Rocket was turning back around, one hand swiping at Groot as wooden hands tried to grab at his whiskers. He stomped over to a nearby table jutting out of the Milano’s wall and hopped up onto the seat. “Fine. Spill.”

Peter took a deep breath, trying desperately to stay calm and hoping that his face wasn’t turning red. “It’s a thing called ti-ticklish, Rocket. If I get touched in the wrong spot - it’s kind of like an itch? Feels really weird, and for most Terrans it makes them want to start laughing. And when you and Groot started climbing me, you guys hit a bunch of those spots, and - it’s weird, I know.” He could feel the heat on his face. Definitely blushing, then. “I would have told you, but it's just a stupid Terran thing, and a weakness, and honestly nobody knows about it - really, the only people who’ve done it to me are Yondu and my mom-” He made himself stop. “Anyways. Groot, I’m sorry. Rocket, I’m sorry too. Also, you seriously thought I can’t stand you? What the heck?” As the adrenaline of the recent action and his confession faded, he sank onto the bench on the other side of the table. “I should have said something earlier, huh. You were just going around thinking that, and I just let it happen. Some friend I am - or teammate, I guess, if you could think that I guess we're not as close as I thought-.”

Rocket made a scoffing noise that sounded bizarrely like Yondu about to scold him for being sentimental, and Peter bowed his head and waited for the yelling to start.

Rocket’s voice was soft, when he finally spoke. “You hear that, buddy? Next time you decide to climb Quill, be a little more careful about it. Less you want him to start laughing, I guess.” His gaze snapped up to see Groot cupped in one of Rocket’s palms, looking intently up at him.

“I am Groot?” he asked, turning to look at Peter. 

“To make him stop looking like someone stole all his crap and left him on a high-security planet? Sure, I guess that’s a good enough reason to tickle him.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Come on, man, don’t be an a-hole about it.” But he was already grinning, dizzy with relief that this wouldn't be the thing that broke his team, and Groot was scrambling across the table towards him, cooing cheerfully, his arms already stretching out. 

Now that he wasn’t trying to keep himself from laughing, it was a lot easier to hold more or less still as Groot enthusiastically jumped into his lap and wriggled small fingers into his stomach. He doubled over, one arm braced on the table to avoid crushing Groot, the other clutching at his face in an attempt to somehow counteract the electric feeling jolting along his nerves. “Nohoho! I told yohou, it feheeheels weheird!” 

Groot’s response was almost sadistically cheerful, and now Rocket was up too, crossing the table to Peter’s side. “So, Quill, where exactly are these spots you were talking about? Up your sides mostly, right?”

He prodded his way up Peter’s sides and ribs, and it was enough to have him pounding at the table, gasping out breathless curses. This hadn’t happened to him in years. He could barely think, but the memories were close enough to grab onto - his mom, blowing raspberries on his tummy in a grassy field, and Yondu, carefully not to hurt Peter even as he tickled him half out of his mind. Now he would have a new memory to add to the list. 

A lot of new memories as it turned out. The next week, Rocket and Peter were both at the Milano’s controls, playfully squabbling over who would get to helm the ship as it manuevered around some rock formations on their latest planetary visit. Peter was challenging Rocket to name every control in the cockpit when his teammate whipped Groot out of nowhere and gently tossed him over. He was flattered, at least until Groot called out happily to Rocket and started tickling Peter under the arms until he didn’t have have the breath to argue. 

Peter firmly told Groot not to mess with people while they were piloting and let it go. After all, what was a little messing around between friends?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you're so inclined, come say hi on [tumblr](http://chockfullofsecrets.tumblr.com)!


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